Zero Recall by Sara King

another bar.”
    The bald
roof-owner grimaced.  “You should use that money to clean yourself up, not to
buy some booze,” the man said.
    “Guess that
means you’ll drive for free?”
    The man smiled,
despite himself.  “Maybe I will.  My sister was a Congie.”
    Joe hesitated in
wiping the sleep out of his eyes.  “Was?”
    “Died on
Eeloir.  Huouyt killed her.”
    Joe grunted. 
“That was a bad one.”
    The man’s
attention sharpened.  “You were there?”
    Groaning, Joe
put his hand up to shield his eyes again.   Confirming that the place wasn’t
swarming with Peacemakers, he lowered his hand and said, “Wish I wasn’t, but
yeah.  I was there.  Eight turns of Hell.  Makes you really learn to watch your
back.”
    The man gave him
a look like Joe had just sworn his mother was still a virgin.  “I heard the Human
Ground Force didn’t have any survivors.”
    “There were a
couple.  It was bad.  You don’t want to be on the opposite side of a Huouyt. 
‘Specially if the Huouyt knows what he’s doing.”  Joe shook his head, then eyed
the man.  “What was your sister’s name?”
    “Tertiary
Commander Tammy Schroder.”
    “Wheaties?” Joe
asked, automatically.
    The man’s sharp
look became painfully acute.  “Some people called her that.”
    Joe chuckled. 
“Small world.”
    “Why?” the man demanded,
suspicion tight in his face.
    Joe shrugged.  “She
was in my PlanOps battalion, under a different Prime.  She was Rat’s Second. 
Really athletic, could outrun most of the guys in the battalion games.  Sharper
than a goddamn tack.  Saved Rat’s life a time or two, and mine more than I’d
like to count.  Was a deadeye shot.  Put down more Huouyt than all her
groundmates combined.  They all called her Wheaties.  Don’t ask me why—she got
the name in Basic.”
    For a long time,
the man said nothing.  Finally, “You some sort of con artist or something?”
    Joe grimaced. 
“No sir.”
    “And you knew my
sister.”  He still obviously didn’t believe him.
    “The Ground
Corps is a big place,” Joe said.  “I knew a lot of people.”
    The man’s eyes
scanned his face, then, eventually, he grunted.  “Eeloir wasn’t nearly as bad
as this Neskfaat thing.  I can’t believe those assholes at the news stations. 
We’ve got the biggest war Congress has ever seen brewing right on our doorstep
and instead they’re going on about this Ghost guy.  Who gives a shit?”
    “Yeah,” Joe
muttered.
    In the end, the
bald man led him out to his personal haauk, then fired it up and flew him an
hour east, dropping him off in a housing district in the next town over.  As
Joe was getting out of the haauk , the man stopped him.  “Your name Joe?”
    Joe stiffened. 
“Who’s asking?”
    The man leaned
forward against the straps holding him to his haauk.   “I know for a fact
only two Humans survived that Eeloir thing.  One of ‘em was a woman.  Are you Commander
Zero?  The one they’re looking for?”
    Joe winced.
    Seeing his
expression, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.  Taking
out all the bills he had, he passed them through the window to him.  “It’s
about fifty bucks,” the man said.  He hesitated, his eyes searching his. 
Finally, he said, “Clean yourself up, Joe.”  Then he pulled the haauk into the
air and departed.
    Watching him go,
Joe’s hands fisted on the cash.  Self-righteous prick.
    He promptly went
looking for booze.
    Joe found it
later that night, after he’d been walking for nearly six hours.  He sat down,
ordered a whiskey, and began his blissful return to oblivion. 
     
    #
     
    Jer’ait watched
the Human down his sixth vial of poison for the night from the comfort of a
darkened booth.  He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
    The Human had
recognized him.  How , though, was still grating on him.  Not once in his
life had Jer’ait been recognized for what he was until he was ready.  And